


to new beginnings

by cecropia



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Larry Murphy Tries (Dear Evan Hansen), M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Moving In Together, One Shot, Reconciliation, Soft Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), gun mention, happens after the second break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21133016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/pseuds/cecropia
Summary: It doesn’t feel like home. Not yet. Right now it’s someone else’s; it’s not theirs. They don’t have the comfort of Cynthia burning seasonal candles or Heidi clanking around in the kitchen or the sound of Zoe’s soft guitar from her room or Larry shuffling papers around in the dining room. And they’ll never have that again, not really, because this is what they have now. Stretching silences and the occasional bump from the people living above them.And Connor just feels unsettled. Like he’s at the edge of the deep end of the pool, not really sure how deep it is or what the temperature is or if he’ll even be able to swim back up to the top, but jumping in is the only option. Everything is just… new. Uncertain.But he looks over and Evan’s there, right next to him. Evan’s a constant. Unwavering.





	to new beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> HI I'M UPLOADING THIS BEFORE CLASS SO LMK IF I MISSED ANY TAGS OR TWS I JUST WANTED TO GET THIS OUT BC I LOVE IT <33333333  
i guess this is the prequel to heartbeat!!  
tl;dr: evan's hot and connor keeps getting interrupted, connor reconciles with his father, evan and connor move into their first apartment together :-)  
lemme know what u think!!
> 
> come talk to me! c-e-c-r-o-p-i-a on tumblr :-)  


“Can you get the boxes in the trunk?” Evan asks him, slightly out of breath as he sets a box on the ground next to the kitchen table. “There are only, like— I think there are two small ones left? Maybe a suitcase too.”

Objectively, asking your significant other to get boxes out of a trunk is not sexy. That’s sort of a universal thing. Unless said boxes are, like, dildo boxes or something, which Connor had already slipped under the bed before Heidi or Cynthia or god forbid _ Zoe _ could’ve found them. 

Long story short, unpacking boxes is decidedly not sexy. Usually. Because everyone’s worn out and grossly sweaty and irritated because they went from a shit ton of boxes piled up in their old houses to a shit ton of boxes piled up in the shiny new apartment, and. It’s like no one did any work _ at all, _ like they haven’t even made any progress_. _

Subjectively, though…

Evan Hansen looks fucking good in sweatpants. 

“Sure,” Connor says softly, a little dazed, a little delayed. 

Because of course Evan had to wear _ those sweatpants _ today. Like, okay, Connor’s not usually a sentimental person, right? Or at least he didn’t _ used _ to be. But those sweatpants are the ones Connor got him as a belated graduation gift with the money from his own stupid grad party; they’re a soft heather grey with the name of their university in block letters down the side.

He didn’t expect for Evan to look so goddamn edible in them, though. Like, they’re a little tight around his thighs because Evan’s got thighs for days, thighs that Connor just can’t help but sit on, and they bunch at the ankles and make him look all cozy and huggable and also fuckable at the same time, which Connor just doesn’t understand. They make him realize how much of a complete fucking package Evan Hansen is. 

And, like. It just tugs at Connor’s heartstrings that it’s been _ two years _ since Connor had given him those, and Evan still has them, and he still wears them, like, obsessively. Because he likes them. Because Connor gave them to him, and because _ Connor _ likes them. 

Evan’s right; there are only two small shoeboxes and a suitcase left for them to unpack. Connor almost fucking trips trying to walk through their tiny little dingy-ass doorway juggling everything in his hands and also rolling in a suitcase while trying to pry the door open, but Evan scrambles to hold the door for him, laughing and apologizing profusely, and. 

It’s also kind of unfair that he’s decided to wear a tank top, of all the shirts he could have chosen to wear. 

Connor’s pissed at him for it. 

Again, it’s _ objectively _ a good thing to wear when you’re moving in. Because it’s August and they’re all sweating to death and they’re basically exercising, but like. Evan _ knows _ that Connor has a thing for his arms. And Connor’s been practically _ forced _ to look at his arms as he lifts boxes and puts them down and he hasn’t been able to do _ anything about it _because their fucking family members have been here and while Connor really, really appreciates their help, he kind of just wants them gone already. 

Connor sets everything on the floor next to the front door, sighing and taking everything in. 

And then. There are no more giant boxes to bring in; no more bags and pillows and suitcases and stupid shoe boxes, and the atmosphere in the tiny living room is tense for a moment as they all look around. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening already,” Cynthia says, tears already gathering. “Our _ babies _.”

Connor fights the urge to roll his eyes as he takes a seat across from Zoe. _ They’re just trying to help, _ Evan had told him that morning_, be civil. _

“Yes, _ very _ sad,” Zoe drones sarcastically, and Cynthia just laughs. 

“We all know you’ll miss your brother, Zoe.”

Zoe gives Connor a challenging glance, smirking just the slightest bit, and he shoots her a look that says _ don’t you fucking dare. _

“You know what I won’t miss?”

It’s a staring contest now. Connor widens his eyes as a warning, but Zoe’s not breaking. 

“Zoe, I swear to god—“

“Living in the room across from them. The things I’ve—“

“Okay, that’s enough, Zo, we get it,” Connor interrupts loudly, slipping down in the armchair and scrubbing his hands down his face. “For fuck’s sake.”

Thankfully, they don’t dwell on that last part for too long. 

“I thought it was bad when this one left for college,” Says Heidi, putting on a brave face and laughing, nudging Evan’s shoulder where they sit next to each other on the couch, “But I don’t know how I’m gonna survive without you.”

“_ Mom_,” Evan says softly, and Connor doesn’t blame him for blinking back tears. “I’m not, like— I’m not that far away, we can still. We can still see each other.”

“Well _ yeah_, of course, honey, but— y’know—“

“It’s a parent thing,” Cynthia adds, looking past Heidi at Evan. She conjures a tissue out of nowhere and pats at her eyes. “When your babies grow up and move out, you’ll get it.”

Heidi nods happily along, but. 

_ Your babies. _ Connor can feel his ears turning red. 

And Evan. Connor glances over at him and he coughs, his cheeks and chest all becoming this beautiful shade of rosy pink, and. Something stirs inside him because his attention is drawn to those fucking arms again, gaze sliding right up to his collarbone and his neck and his soft jaw and his messy, fluffy hair and Connor still can’t fucking do anything about it. 

When he meets Zoe’s eyes, she rolls hers knowingly. He sticks his tongue out at her. 

“Well, um,” Cynthia sits up, blowing her nose. “We should probably get going.”

“Oh, shoot. It’s getting dark, isn’t it?” Heidi asks with a laugh and a glance in Evan’s direction. “Hey, if you need me, you just call, okay?” She pats his knee. “About _ anything_.”

She gives him a pointed look and Connor can’t help but feel like it’s some inside joke. 

It makes him smile. 

“Same goes for you, Connor,” Cynthia says seemingly out of obligation, standing up and holding out her arms for a hug. 

Connor’s not a hugger. He’s never really been one, because he’s never really had much of an opportunity, but in the years of knowing and being known by Evan Hansen, he’s learned to be okay with it. 

It’s okay when it’s other people, now. It’s everything when it’s Evan. 

He rolls his eyes out of pure habit and steps into her arms, and when she rests her cheek on his shoulder he smells that same old perfume she’s always worn. It smells like his childhood, oddly enough. She holds him tight, for way longer than she’s ever held him before, like she’s trying to press every I love you in the world that she’s missed and more into Connor’s back through her palms. He’d forgotten how good his mother is at hugging people. 

And when it’s over, Connor regrets ever denying her of one. 

“Zoe, hug your brother,” Cynthia says with a watery inflection as she pulls back, walking towards the door with Heidi to hide her face. When Connor catches his eyes Evan gives him a small smile, just a twitch of the lip, but it says everything he needs to know. 

Zoe does as she’s told, but not before heaving a giant sigh and barely even wrapping her arms around Connor’s torso. 

“Fuck you,” She whispers, but Connor can hear the smile in her voice. 

“You too, bitch,” Connor whispers back with a grin. 

He feels this foreign empty feeling as Zoe fist-bumps Evan and the girls all shuffle out their front door, the moms shouting advice at them as Zoe pulls them to the car, because they’ve all said goodbyes but not really. It’s different from the past two years because goodbye meant _ I’ll see you on Christmas break _ and _ I’ll see you in the summer _ or _ I’ll see you this weekend, _ but. Now that they’ve got a place to live that’s permanent, it’s more like _ I’ll see you when I see you_. It’s not guaranteed. 

It’s weird. 

“That was… a lot,” Evan sighs as he flops sideways on the couch, feet propped up on the armrest. 

Connor knows exactly what he means. 

“Yeah,” He agrees, making a show of lifting Evan’s legs and settling them in his lap when he’s finally able to sit down. 

And then they’re just looking at each other. 

And Connor’s. Feeling weirdly emotional, surrounded by piles and piles of boxes in their empty little apartment. 

It doesn’t feel like home. Not yet. Right now it’s someone else’s; it’s not _ theirs_. They don’t have the comfort of Cynthia burning seasonal candles or Heidi clanking around in the kitchen or the sound of Zoe’s soft guitar from her room or Larry shuffling papers around in the dining room. And they’ll never have that again, not really, because this is what they have now. Stretching silences and the occasional bump from the people living above them. 

And Connor just feels _ unsettled_. Like he’s at the edge of the deep end of the pool, not really sure how deep it is or what the temperature is or if he’ll even be able to swim back up to the top, but jumping in is the only option. Everything is just… new. Uncertain. 

But he looks over and Evan’s there, right next to him. Evan’s a constant. Unwavering. 

Connor doesn’t regularly cry, is the thing. It takes something gigantic for Connor to actually cry in front of other people, even Evan, so his eyebrows pull together in confusion as he feels hot tears pricking at his eyes for reasons he doesn’t really understand, reasons he’s not ready to understand. 

And it seems Evan’s already there himself, blinking rapidly and biting his lip. He gives Connor a gentle smile, wiping his eyes and then holding his arms open for Connor, and he has no trouble crawling right into them. 

He feels safe here. 

Evan doesn’t mention the fact that Connor’s eyes are leaking all over his tank top. Connor doesn’t mention the sniffling and occasional hiccups, Evan’s arms trembling where they rest on Connor’s back. 

Sleep takes over before Connor even realizes it’s happening.

… 

“We’ve _ ruined _ it,” Evan mocks him from the kitchen. “Sure.”

“Honestly,” Connor replies, clearing his throat when his voice comes out rough from sleep. “Weren’t we supposed to, like. Christen the bed, or whatever?” 

Connor’s stretching his arms above his head when Evan comes back in the living room with two cups of coffee. “That’s— I think that’s a wedding exclusive,” Evan replies, setting the two mugs on the coffee table in front of them and settling in next to Connor on the couch. “We need a blanket for this couch,” He mumbles, “I woke up and you were shivering.”

“Good idea,” Connor says, grabbing the remote and switching on the TV. “I’m sure we have one somewhere.”

Evan hands him his coffee cup with a shy smile when Connor settles back into the couch. Connor doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of these little things they do for each other; holding the door, picking up clothes off the floor, little text messages just to show they’re thinking of each other. It warms him more than any coffee ever could. 

Evan takes a sip of his coffee, bringing his hands up to his face, which makes his biceps more prominent, which reminds Connor of what they were previously talking about. 

“I feel like christening is definitely a thing for new houses,” Connor says conversationally, taking a sip. Of course, Evan made his coffee just how Connor likes it. He feels dumb, but he can’t wipe this stupid smile off his face. “Like, you gotta christen the _ bathroom _ and the _ bed _ and the _ couch _ and the _ kitchen table… _”

Evan huffs a laugh. “The floor,” He offers. 

“The floor,” Connor agrees. “Definitely. The door, maybe.”

Evan snorts. “Jesus.”

A pause. Some stupid sitcom is playing on the TV. 

“The balcony?” Evan adds, glancing over af Connor with an amused smile. 

“Good one,” Connor says, setting his coffee cup back on the table. “How about… the laundry room, too?”

“You mean the shared laundry room that our entire floor uses?” Evan asks him, taking a sip. 

“Yeah.”

Evan glances at him, swallows once. 

Connor grins. 

“We could— um. We could work up to it,” Evan tries to joke, but Connor easily detects the wobble of nervous energy in his voice. Anticipation. 

And, like. It’s not like either of them would actually have the guts to do that, but. Connor feels the shift in energy between them, switching from playful banter to something with actual implications when Evan sets down his coffee cup. 

“We should make a list,” Connor suggests. 

“I agree, but. I think we should start with something more basic, though,” Evan adds after a second, turning toward Connor on the couch. He leans forward the slightest amount and Connor can see his fucking collarbone now, popping out under Evan’s sinful tank top and Connor feels his mouth go dry. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“You’re the— the _ expert _ on christening,” Evan quips easily, scooting closer. “You tell me.”

Connor doesn’t miss the subtle _ tell me what you want _ in Evan’s tone, the part-domineering part-anxious voice behind Evan’s words. 

Connor just _ wants _ . He wants Evan to push him up against the wall and he wants to ride him on this fucking couch and he wants to suck him off in the kitchen and he wants to fuck Evan on the living room floor, fuck that stupid beautiful smug look off of his face; he wants it _ all _. 

“Let’s start with the bed,” Connor says without missing a beat. Evan pushes the hair off Connor’s forehead, giving him the most affectionate look in the entire world. “Y’know. Since we missed out on it last night.”

“Right.”

It’s crazy how they’re still so gone for each other after all this time. Almost three years. Like, Connor still feels anticipation bubbling in his chest when Evan leans in to kiss him. Every single time. He still feels giddy when Evan holds his hand or affectionately rolls his eyes and he just doesn’t get it. How it still feels like the beginning of their relationship, minus the part where they were unsure of each other and how to comfort and how to love and how to be themselves. 

Maybe it’ll always be like that; a constant. A steady stream of _ good good good _. 

Maybe it’ll just keep getting better. A rising trend that never stops its ascent, sometimes dipping down but never for too long. 

Connor’s constantly learning things about Evan. Like, just a couple of days ago he learned that Evan’s got a really strong opinion about music in elementary schools. About how schools keep cutting these arts programs but sometimes art is all kids have, sometimes it’s their only way they know how to express themselves. He even got slightly upset about it. He got _ mad _. 

There’s always something to learn. Connor never gets tired of it. He doesn’t think he ever will.

But just as things are getting good, as Evan tangles his hands in the roots of Connor’s hair and tugs _ just right _, there’s a knock at the door. 

“Fuck,” Connor groans quietly, and Evan laughs against his lips. 

… 

Their landlord doesn’t stay long, just enough to very stiffly introduce himself as Gregg and tell them that as long as they don’t make too much noise, they’ll all get along just fine. There are… some _ implications _ to that, Connor realizes as Gregg narrows his eyes and gives him a judgemental up-down when he and Evan stand a bit closer than Platonic Roommates stand. Connor just smirks at him. Steps even closer. 

“I’ll see you boys around,” Gregg says gruffly, heading for the door and glancing around at the boxes. “Rent’s due on the twenty-third. Don’t be late.”

The door slams with an uneasy echo. 

Connor looks to his side and Evan’s looking at him with wide eyes.

It’s not long before Connor lets out a snort, bursting into laughter and landing on the couch, and Evan goes with him. 

“Oh my _ god_,” Evan giggles, throwing his head back and leaning into Connor’s side. “He— do you— what do you think he’s hiding in that beard?”

“Fuck,” Connor laughs, “Probably— he probably has a gun in there, or something.”

“He looks like someone who’d have a gun,” Evan gasps, “And, like— like three failed marriages.” 

That sends them both off into uncontrollable laughter, Connor grasping at Evan’s hand and throwing an arm over his face. 

When he opens his eyes Evan’s right there, giggling against his shoulder and looking at him like he’s the only person in the entire world, and Connor doesn’t even think before he’s pulling Evan on top of him and slipping two hands under Evan’s shirt. 

“Careful,” Evan mumbles, and Connor’s lips tingle when he laughs against them. He kisses Connor once, twice. “If we wanna get along with Gregg, we gotta be quiet.”

“Who says we won’t be?” Connor asks, dragging his fingers along Evan’s spine. Evan’s eyelashes flutter when a shiver rolls through him. 

“_You _ won’t be, for sure,” Evan laughs, pushing hair behind Connor’s ear. “You seem to have a problem with that. And it’s been, like, two whole days since I’ve— since I’ve _gotten you off_. So.”

Connor rolls his eyes, surprising Evan when he slots their lips together again and pokes Evan’s bottom lip with his tongue, deepening the kiss just to hide the fact that his face is going red. “You like it,” He whispers, barely disconnecting their lips.

Evan whines quietly in the back of his throat, and Connor shudders when Evan’s fingers slide into his hair. “You’re _ so _ right.”

“_Mmf— _ bed?” Connor basically breathes, and Evan laughs. Connor kisses Evan hard to shut him up. “What? I haven’t gotten to touch you for _ so long_.” 

“No, I know, it’s just—” Connor attacks him with kisses again, pushing him back against the couch and crawling on top of him. “I’ve never seen you so— maybe we should wait like this all the time—”

“Less talking, more making out,” Connor huffs, and Evan laughs again but gives in to the kiss, letting Connor slide his hands up Evan’s torso underneath his shirt even though Connor knows his hands are cold. 

“So we’re christening the couch first, then?” Evan asks him, and Connor groans in frustration. 

“I don’t give a shit what we _ christen _ first— fucking _ touch _ me,” He demands, and he wants to make Evan feel so good that he doesn’t even remember how to grin like a little shit anymore. 

Evan slides his hands under Connor’s shirt, pushing it up to his waist and tugging like he wants it off. 

“_I’m _ impatient, huh?” Connor asks him, and Evan gets this indignant look on his face like Connor’s just insulted him to an extreme degree, an amused look in his eye. 

“I— you told me to touch you, I was just— you—“

“I’m pretty sure you just want me naked.”

“I’m— I mean, _ yeah_, that kind of goes without saying, but—“

“Shhh,” Connor shushes him, shaking his head and pressing his lips to Evan’s again. “You’ve got an agenda. I get it.”

And then Connor about jumps out of his skin when his phone starts vibrating in his back pocket, and apparently he jumps so hard that he accidentally rocks his hips forward against Evan’s and a groan is pushed from his throat, hands flying to Connor’s hips and fingers digging in hard. 

“Jesus _ fuck— _ shit, I’m sorry—“ He runs a hand through Evan’s ruffled hair and he smiles just a little, the look on his face somewhere between pleasure and pain. “Are you fucking— like, are you actually _ serious— _“

Connor huffs a frustrated sigh as he plants one hand on Evan’s chest to steady himself and reaches into his back pocket to fish out his phone. 

And when he sees _ Annoying Sister _ on caller ID, he can’t contain his frustration. 

“What the hell do you want,” He gripes, flipping his hair out of his face as his eyes land on Evan. He’s got his lip between his teeth, eyes unfocused, and he’s looking Connor up and down like he’s a fucking meal. 

Connor licks his lips. 

“Well that’s fucking rude,” Zoe says, and Connor’s mood is immediately conflicted. Evan starts rubbing little circles into his hips with his thumbs, running his hands up and down Connor’s thighs, and it’s like no matter how hard he tries he can’t fucking focus on anything his sister is saying. 

“Yeah, and?”

“_And _ I guess you don’t want me to warn you about what mom’s about to do, since you’ve decided to be a dick to me and have a stick up your ass.”

Connor _ wishes_. 

“_Ugh_, just tell me. I’m— I’m busy. Make it quick.”

The corner of Evan’s mouth twitches and Connor narrows his eyes at him. 

“Why should I? You seem like you really don’t want to be talking to me.”

“Zoe,” Connor complains, sucking in a shaky breath when Evan’s hands start to slide up his inner thighs. 

“Okay, fine. Whatever. But you don’t deserve it.”

Connor bites back a _ fuck you _, silently begging her to continue. 

“Mom’s on her way over. She’s bringing you guys food as, like, a housewarming gift, or whatever.”

Connor closes his eyes, letting out a slow, disappointed sigh and leaning down to rest his forehead on Evan’s chest. Evan runs his hand through Connor’s hair. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Connor asks her. 

“Yup,” Zoe says happily. “She wanted to surprise you, but. I figured you would need the warning.” She pauses. “You know, since you two are fucking gross.”

“Great,” Connor sighs, sitting up and tucking his hair behind his ear. “That’s goddamn fantastic.”

Evan gives him a confused look. Connor just rolls his eyes. 

“Do you at least know when she’ll be here?”

Evan purses his lips in disappointment. 

“She left, like… maybe half an hour ago? So probably within the next hour. Unless she decides to speed, then you two should probably put your pants on sooner.”

“You’re disgusting,” Connor says, but he’s well aware of the fact that he’s guilty of exactly what Zoe’s accusing him of. 

“Um, how about a thank you?”

“Yeah, _ thank you_, whatever, bye.”

“I hate you,” Zoe replies, but Connor’s far from offended. He’d never admit it in a million years, but recently that’s been their unspoken way of saying_ I love you_. 

“Hate you more,” Connor says sarcastically, and Zoe laughs as he goes to hang up the phone. 

“What was that about?” Evan asks him, amused, as Connor drops his phone to the floor and slumps forward. Evan’s arms immediately wrap around him. 

“The universe just… doesn’t want us to have sex, I guess,” Connor says, defeated. 

Evan sighs. “Someone’s coming over?”

“Yep. My mother. She’s bringing food.”

“Free food,” Evan offers, but Connor just sighs. 

“Not as satisfying as the alternative.”

“That’s… I won’t argue with that.” Evan lets out a shaky breath and Connor looks up at him. “I’m, like— so hard right now? It’s insane.”

“_Fuck_, you can’t _ say _ that,” Connor tells him on a groan, leaning up to kiss Evan’s neck. 

“It’s— _ shit— _ it’s true,” Evan says softly, “I dunno how this is gonna work if— if your mom’s gonna be here soon—“

“Let’s just… we can just, like… jerk each other off real quick. We’ve been able to get off in less time than this.” Connor trails his hands down Evan’s sides. 

“But, like— in a couple of hours we can do, like. The _ full thing. _ And I don’t wanna wear you out.”

Connor laughs against Evan’s neck. “Cocky.”

“I’m— I’m _ just— _ you know I’m right.”

“I do, and I hate it.”

“I hate _ you_.”

“You do not, you fucking liar,” Connor cackles, digging his fingers into Evan’s sides. Evan lets out a squeak, pushing at Connor’s chest until he rolls off of Evan and onto the floor. 

“Fuck— I’m sorry, oh my god—“ Evan laughs, reaching out a hand for Connor, which he promptly ignores. 

“Don’t apologize to me,” Connor replies, “Apologize to Gregg.”

Evan gasps, covers his mouth. It’s incredibly cute. “Oh my god, that was _so_ loud, wasn’t it?”

“Yup,” Connor says, shaking his head and standing up. “We’re probably already getting evicted as we speak, so. Thanks for that.”

“At least let me make it up to you,” Evan says in the cheesiest porn imitation voice Connor’s ever heard. Evan raises his eyebrows a couple of times, grinning ear to ear, and Connor flushes as he realizes that he’s never been happier to have been chosen by someone as handsome and endearing and cute and funny and overall just as incredible as him. 

“Put some decent pants on, Hansen.”

… 

The last thing Connor expects when he opens up the door, all dressed up in his nicest, least hole-y sweatshirt, is to be face to face with his father. 

“Larry— dad,” Connor says before he really gets the chance to think about it. “Hi. What—“

“Son,” Larry nods with a tight smile. He extends his hand and Connor feels like he’s in a weird dream when he takes it, because his dad is here, at his new apartment, shaking his hand in the doorway, and he just. Wasn’t expecting him. 

He kind of doesn’t _ want _ to see him. 

Larry couldn’t even be bothered to take off work to come help them move out, so. Why should Connor play nice?

“Isn’t it nice, Larry?” Connor hears from behind his father, and Cynthia appears with a Tupperware container in her hands. “Relatively cheap, too. Can we come in for a minute? Sorry to show up last minute, but we were in town.”

“Oh, yeah, uh— yeah,” Connor says, mentally scolding himself for being such a dumbass in front of his dad. The last thing he needs right now is a screaming match over whether or not Connor’s high. 

He’s not. He hasn’t been for a while. 

“I see you haven’t unpacked anything yet,” Larry observes, looking around and linking his hands together like he’s afraid he’ll get a disease if he touches anything. Cynthia gives him a death glare.

Connor sucks in a breath, ready to reply, and there’s a tiny swell of anger in his chest, but—

“We haven’t had the time,” Evan says from behind him. “We’ve— we’ve both been really busy.”

Connor gives him a grateful glance, and he can already see the cogs turning in Evan’s head, belittling himself for the slight stutter. 

“They moved in _ yesterday_, Larry,” Cynthia chides, moving over to the dining table to set down the food. “Give them time.”

“Of course.”

Larry starts his rounds, inspecting every corner like he’s trying to find a flaw to bring up, something that targets Connor and makes him defend himself, and then Larry will complain about his attitude, and then Connor will reply sarcastically and Larry will call him a brat and then—

“It’s not bad for your first apartment,” Larry says shortly, breaking the silence, and Connor blinks a couple of times, because. That wasn’t what he was expecting, honestly. Like, at all. He expected more of a _ this place could use some work, Connor _ or _ you couldn’t have found an apartment with south facing windows? _ or a _ Connor, have you decided whether or not you still want to be in a relationship with a man? _ But Evan comes up from behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder, forcing all of the tension out of him immediately.

“Check your phone,” Evan whispers, patting Connor once on the shoulder and heading over to Cynthia and Larry. Connor just stands there. “So, um… looks like a… a casserole?”

Connor shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around his father actually being peaceful instead of just trying to pick a fight, his mother’s delighted voice fading to the background as he pulls out his phone.

**Evan**: are you ok?

**Evan**: I can cover for you if you need a minute

**Evan**: I can ask you to go find me a sweater in our room or something

Connor bites the inside of his cheek, smiling down at his phone like an idiot. 

**Connor**: I’m good, promise. Thank you.

When he glances back up, Evan’s making small talk with his mother and his father is quietly nodding along. 

Which is so far from their high school days, Connor realizes with a sudden warm feeling blooming in his chest. Evan used to do anything to get away from his parents; he was worried that they’d think he was too stuttery or that he was stupid because he didn’t come from wealth and he hated being around them almost as much as Connor did, but. Here he is, standing in their kitchen, socializing with his mother _ and _ his father, and Connor’s feeling weirdly emotional again. 

These past few days have been really, really fucking weird.

But strangely, Connor’s not complaining. Far from it, really.

“It’s something new we’re trying out. Have you heard of the keto diet?”

Larry closes his eyes for a long time, something Connor’s learned means that he’s rolling them. 

“Oh, um— yeah, actually. One of my professors told me... all about it.” Evan bites his lip for just a second, teeth barely grazing over his bottom lip, and Connor almost laughs. Last semester, Evan’s professor had complained to the class for about forty minutes about how stupid she thinks keto is and how it can be harmful for health. Evan had come back to the dorm with messy hair and sleepy eyes from nodding off so many times. 

And after that, well. Connor couldn’t just let Evan look so fucking cute without doing something about it, so. 

There are definitely some memories tied to that story.

“Well, since Larry and I have been trying to follow it, it’s been great! We’ve been feeling so much better, isn’t that right, Larry?” She nudges his arm with her elbow.

Larry smiles tightly. “We’ve been feeling something.” He spares a glance at Connor, and Connor gives him a smug smile back. Evan holds back a laugh. Cynthia ignores all of them.

“But anyway, I figured it would be nice for you two to have some food in your fridge.”

“Thank you, Cynthia. We really appreciate it,” Evan tells her, nodding. She beams at him.

“Sorry I couldn’t convince her to make her famous baked mac and cheese for you boys,” Larry says, and all the attention turns to him because he hasn’t really said anything since they’ve arrived. And he’s attempting to _ joke_. For the _ second time_. “I tried.”

“Oh, _ Larry_,” Cynthia chides, “This is just as good.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Larry says sarcastically, practiced. Connor’s never been more aware of where he gets his sense of humor from. 

The room gets quiet. Evan starts to wring his hands, looking down at the floor. 

Connor should say something. 

“Do you, um— would you like to stay for dinner, or—?” Evan asks suddenly.

“No, we couldn’t,” Cynthia shakes her head, “And you two need the leftovers now that you’re on your own.” 

Larry nods. “We’re going to a steakhouse nearby,” He adds.

“Sounds great,” Connor says, and Larry turns to Cynthia. 

“Oh, Cynthia, why don’t you show Evan those garden photos you took?”

Evan’s eyes light up at the words _ garden photos_.

“Oh, right!” Cynthia pulls out her phone, shuffling closer to Evan, who only looks mildly uncomfortable. “Ever since you got us that plant food stuff for our anniversary, the garden’s been doing so well! Here are the tomatoes…”

“Oh, those look great! How about the Zinnias…?”

Larry starts to walk over to the couch, nodding at Connor to follow him. 

Apprehensively, he does. 

Connor’s reminded of his accelerating age when Larry sits down with a fatherly huff, relaxing into the couch. 

“Don’t tell your mother,” Larry starts, smirking over at Connor, “But I’ve been sneaking potato chips behind her back.”

At first, Connor’s not really sure how to respond. He just sits there for a second, licking his lips and trying to decide where to go from here. Is he just supposed to act like the past twenty-one years haven’t happened? Like his father didn’t spend the entirety of those years trying to get a rise out of him, like he _ didn’t _ blame Connor for his attempted suicide and _ didn’t _ refuse to get him therapy afterwards? Is he supposed to just… drop all of that because he’s decided to be civil for once in Connor’s entire fucking life?

Larry breathes a defeated sigh at Connor’s lack of response, turning away. 

“I know that in the past, you and I… haven’t had the closest relationship.” He turns his steely gaze to Connor again. It looks like each word is painful for him to admit. “But I’d like to start fresh. Can we do that?”

Connor blinks at him. 

A peace offering. 

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t explain everything that he’s done, he didn’t tell Connor why he acted the way he did or if he regrets any of it, he didn’t do anything that Connor’s been wishing he’d do for years, but.

He’s _ trying_. He’s putting forth effort. All of these years, Connor had assumed Larry had just given up on him. Stopped caring. 

Connor doesn’t remember to speak for a long minute.

“Alright,” Connor agrees, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great.” Larry extends his hand again, and Connor takes it and shakes it once. “To new beginnings.”

And Connor has his doubts, but he repeats _ to new beginnings _ anyway, dazed, and when he glances over at Evan he’s still talking animatedly with Cynthia about the garden. The corner of his mouth quirks up in an almost-smile at the passion in Evan’s gestures and facial expressions.

“He’s treating you well?” Larry asks stiffly, and when Connor looks back at him he’s raising his eyebrows seriously. Apparently Connor had been staring. 

Not unusual.

“Uh— yeah, of course,” Connor says, embarrassed. He suddenly becomes very interested in his chipping nail polish, letting his hair fall over the side of his face that his dad can see. “He always has,” Connor adds obnoxiously. 

“Good,” Larry replies simply, shifting in his seat.

“...Yep.”

“And… he’s agreed to pay half of all of the bills? He’s not having you—?”

Connor tries not to get angry on Evan’s behalf. His father is _ trying_, he reminds himself. “_Yes_, dad. He’s good with his money. Very fair. Always has been.”

“Right. Of course.”

Larry clears his throat. Connor fights the urge to clear his. 

Evan’s _ still talking_. 

“If you, um. If you two ever need anything…” Larry trails off, forcing Connor to look up at him. 

“Thanks,” Connor mutters quickly, before Larry can add anything else.

And then finally, _ finally_, Cynthia gets through all the photos. 

“Alright, Larry, I’m getting hungry,” Cynthia says from across the room, picking up her purse and slinging it over her arm. “We should head out before it gets too dark.”

“Time to hit the road,” Larry tells Connor, getting up with yet another dad noise. 

Connor silently hopes he doesn’t ever make those noises when he’s old. 

“I need a hug,” Cynthia says, rushing over to Connor. He’s not surprised when he sees the hint of tears in her eyes. The hug is short this time, but it still makes Connor smile. “I promise we won’t be visiting you every day. This was a one-time thing.”

Connor laughs. “Thanks, mom.”

And when she moves to pull Evan into a bone-crushing hug that has his eyes almost popping out of his head, Larry extends his hand for the third time. 

Connor takes it without hesitation. Because he’s trying. 

But then Larry’s pulling him into one of those bro hugs that men with fragile masculinity give each other, patting his back, and Connor seizes up because it suddenly hits him that his dad has never really, truly hugged him. 

Not since he was a child, he guesses. Connor hadn’t let anyone touch him for the longest time. 

Not until Evan, at least.

“It was nice seeing you, son,” Larry says gruffly, pulling back and straightening his tie. 

Cynthia looks like she might cry. 

Evan looks like his whole world has just been upended. 

Connor feels his cheeks burn at all of the attention. 

“You too,” Connor mumbles, not sure what else to say. 

“You can always call us,” Cynthia says to the both of them as Larry extends his hand to Evan. “If you need anything, we’ll be there. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” Evan says, glancing at Connor. “Really, thank you so much. For the food and… and everything.”

“No need to thank us,” Larry says to him. “We’re family.”

Evan lets out a happy little breath. 

“Don’t forget to pay rent, alright? Do you boys have it on a calendar?”

“Cynthia, let them be. Come on.”

Larry glances over his shoulder as he ushers Cynthia out the door. “Have a good night,” He calls, and Cynthia says, “I love you!”

Connor doesn’t have the time or headspace to reply before they shut the door behind them. 

Silently, wordlessly, Connor turns to Evan, crossing his arms. And Evan steps closer to him, searching his face and letting both hands fall on Connor’s forearms. 

“You okay?” Evan asks, concern taking over his entire face. 

“Yeah,” Connor breathes, “I’m. I’m weirdly okay.”

“What the hell was that?” Evan asks breathlessly, shaking his head. 

Connor lets out a laugh through his nose. “I have no idea, um. I guess… Larry’s trying to make peace?”

“That’s…”

“Yeah.”

“That is…”

“I know.”

“Unexpected.”

“I don’t even know if I trust it yet,” Connor says to him, looking down at his crossed arms. “He’s just… fucked me over so much in the past, y’know? A part of me feels like it’s all some giant plot to get me to trust him and then…”

When he looks back up, Evan’s raising his eyebrows at him.

And then he hears what he said. Really hears it. 

“That’s… I’m being stupid again,” Connor observes.

“_No_, not— you’re not _ stupid_,” Evan tells him, stepping closer and removing Connor’s arms from across his chest. Evan’s hands land on his waist. “I just… don’t think he’s out to get you. I think your brain might just be, like… making stuff up to scare you. And it’s making things worse than they really are.” He stops, eyes widening as he rushes to clarify. “Not— like, not that it’s not totally valid to not trust it, considering all the shit he’s put you through, but I just—”

“_Catastrophizing_,” Connor mumbles with a half-hearted eyeroll. “That’s what Lisa calls it.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Evan grins at him, sliding his hands around to Connor’s back. “I’m… have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”

Connor snorts. He rests his hands on Evan’s biceps. “For what?”

“You, like… dealt with your dad without… you know. Like, blowing up on him. Or saying sarcastic things or, like, intentionally pissing him off. And you didn’t yell at Zoe _ once _ yesterday. Or your mom.”

Connor lets his hair fall over his face again. “I guess…”

“You _ guess— _ ? Connor, that’s— that’s _ giant_.” Evan’s eyes aren’t full of pity like the mentally ill side of Connor’s brain expects them to be. He looks… proud, through and through. Connor looks and looks, but he can’t see anything except love on Evan’s face; admiration. For _ Connor _. 

“It’s whatever,” Connor says on instinct, but then he backtracks. “I mean— fucking— I am. Proud of me. For that.”

It’s awkward and clunky and complimenting himself just feels wrong, but he doesn’t take it back. And Evan’s beaming at him, so.

He throws a peace sign at the ceiling. “Sorry, Lisa. Fixed it for you.”

Evan snorts. “What, is she dead or something?”

“No, I just—”

Evan leans closer. “You’re cute.”

Evan’s hands splay across Connor’s back and he’s very quickly flustered. “I’m— shut the fuck up—”

“Deflecting,” Evan sing-songs, bumping their noses. Connor’s heart is racing in his chest, that fluttery feeling of anticipation not unlike how he felt leading up to the first time they had ever kissed, hands clammy where he’d pressed them into Evan’s bed. “You’re cute, Connor. Accept it.”

“I—” Connor stops, squares his jaw. Evan’s green eyes are bright, so bright, and his cheeks are flushed and he just looks so happy and so _ alive _ . Connor wants to kiss him silly. He wants to kiss Evan’s face and _ only _ Evan’s for the rest of forever, really. “I will agree that _ you _ think I’m cute.”

“That’s— that doesn’t count, that’s a total cop out. I’m telling Lisa.”

Connor bats his eyelashes at him. “You absolutely the fuck are _ not_. I wasn’t negative, so it counts. Fuck you. Suck it.”

Evan licks his lips, slides his hands down to rest on Connor’s hips. Connor sucks in a shaky breath when Evan’s eyes flick to his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

_ I want fucking everything with you_, Connor wants to say, but all that comes out is—

“Bed,” He spits out, unable to resist running his hands up Evan’s arms to rest on his neck. “Like, immediately. Like right now. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

Evan winds his arms further around Connor’s torso, resting his head on Connor’s shoulder. It makes him sigh in relief, even the implication of Evan’s skin finally touching his own. He can feel the heat through Evan’s clothes and he shuts his eyes, melting at the feeling. “Like… _right now_, right now?” Evan asks him, muffled by Connor’s shoulder.

The little shit.

“Evan Hansen,” Connor starts, walking forward and pushing Evan back in the direction of the hall. Evan giggles, almost tripping when Connor just keeps walking. “I swear to god if you don’t get me on that bed in the next two minutes—”

“Okay, _ fine_,” Evan fake-complains, lifting his head from Connor’s shoulder to glance at him. “But, like… which bed were you referring to? Because we do have a guest room, and—”

“_Ugh_,” Connor groans, and Evan erupts into giggles. Connor’s still walking them backward, one hand out to the side to feel for the doorway, and when he does, he pushes Evan into their room and shuts the door. 

Evan’s already undoing his pants by the time Connor turns back around.

He can’t help it when a shiver rolls through him. 

“Why’d you shut the door?” Evan teases, unzipping his pants and pushing them down. “This is _ our _ apartment, you know.”

“Because if someone else interrupts us before you get your dick out, I will actually kill somebody,” Connor replies casually, yanking his own pants down and off his legs. “And, like. Old habits die hard.”

“_Hard_,” Evan giggles, and Connor grabs him by the hips once they’re both free of jeans. 

“I’m gonna put fucking duct tape over your mouth if you don’t shut the hell up,” Connor laughs, steering him in the direction of their bed and pushing him backward onto it. 

Evan’s pupils are blown when Connor climbs on top of him, tugging at the hem of his shirt and pulling it off when Evan lifts his arms. 

“How would a safe word work with that?” Evan wonders out loud, pulling Connor’s shirt over his head. Connor just sighs, letting himself smile like an idiot as Evan maneuvers the shirt off of his arms and throws it somewhere in the room. 

He fell in love with a giant dork. 

Connor puts two hands on either side of Evan’s face, crawling forward and making sure every possible inch of their skin is touching, knees sinking into the bed on either side of Evan’s thighs. He sighs happily when Evan’s arms wrap around him, so warm, leaning forward to start pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of Evan’s neck. 

“What were you saying?” Connor teases him, smiling to himself when he feels Evan’s fingers fist into his hair. 

“Fuck,” Evan pants in lieu of a reply. 

“Mmhmm, ‘s what I thought,” Connor murmurs, and he’s not even sure if it’s clear enough since he’s got a mouthful of Evan’s neck, but Evan softly moans his name right next to his ear so it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. 

And it’s Connor’s turn to moan when he scrapes his teeth over Evan’s collarbone, sucking a bruise right on top, and Evan tugs on his hair in response. 

“Harder,” Connor demands, well aware that he’s begging, but Evan tightens his grip and Connor kind of forgets to have dignity. 

Connor whines in disappointment when Evan lets go, pulls back. 

“You want my mouth?” Evan asks him, wetting his lips.

And, like. That sentence goes straight to Connor’s dick, already straining against his underwear. 

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” Connor says, breathless, combing through the hair at the back of Evan’s neck.

Evan just licks his lips. 

“Is that a yes, or…?”

“I don’t—“ Connor shakes his head, hurries to put his thoughts in the right order so they don’t come out wrong. “I just… wanna be close to you. Your face. Wanna kiss you, or your neck, or— or something, just—” Connor cuts himself off with a quick sigh through his nose, hoping the look in his eyes will tell Evan exactly what he means to say. 

Evan looks shocked, but not unhappy. He looks… weirdly pleased. And that’s the moment where Connor feels vulnerable, feels like he’s let too many walls down and Evan’s gonna finally realize how much of a needy little bitch Connor is for him and leave, because Connor’s a lot, he’s too much, but Evan just makes that happy breath sound and blinks a couple of times. “Oh— yeah, um. Yeah. Yes.”

“Okay,” Connor breathes happily, gathering Evan’s hair in his hands so he can yank him forward by the neck. 

Evan grips him by the hips, moving their bodies so Evan’s hovering on top of him, one leg in between Connor’s thighs, and Connor sighs in happy relief when Evan finally kisses him. His cheeks are so warm, they’re hot to the touch, and Connor almost moans at the feeling of Evan’s weight on top of him, at the feeling of Evan’s skin on his, of their lips sliding together.

It feels like he can’t get Evan close enough to him. Like he’s trying to pour everything he’s feeling into his actions; his fingers digging into Evan’s shoulders, his hips rutting endlessly forward, the leg he’s got hooked around one of Evan’s thighs, keeping him close. 

It doesn’t go as far as Connor was hoping, admittedly, but it’s still one of the best orgasms he’s ever had. He’s not sure if it’s because of how long they’ve had to wait, or because of Evan’s little whispered _ I love you so fucking much, Connor, oh my god _ as he comes, or the way Evan shivers almost involuntarily when Connor does, breaking Evan’s name into tiny little drawn-out pieces that turn into fragments of sound as Evan presses hot kisses to his neck and works him through it. 

And when it’s done Evan collapses on top of him, laughing breathlessly against Connor’s neck and Connor just holds him there as he catches his breath. 

Evan’s trembling, just a little. Connor runs his hands up and down Evan’s back, and that warm feeling blooms in his chest again when Evan readjusts, hums a little satisfied sound, and nuzzles against Connor’s neck. 

And Connor may be biased, but he’s pretty sure it’s the best sound in the entire universe. 

Besides, like. Evan saying his name.

Evan _ moaning _ his name.

Just. Evan speaking, in general. Best sounds in existence, probably, the things that come out of Evan’s mouth.

“You’ve never made me, um—“ Evan coughs a laugh, moving his head so he’s facing Connor when he speaks against his bare collarbone. “We haven’t… _ finished _ that fast since… since high school.”

Connor turns a bit so he can see the side of Evan’s face that isn’t tucked into his neck. “Evan. We’re twenty-one. We’re legally allowed to drink, so. You’re allowed to say _ come_.”

Connor jams his fingers into Evan’s sides at the last word, forcing a squeak out of him and making him squirm, pushing weakly at Connor’s arms. “No, I’m not. I’ve never even— I’ve never even _ heard _ of that word. I don’t even know what that word means.”

“Well. That _ word _ is currently soaking through your underwear and onto my thigh, so. You’d better learn it.”

“_Pffft_. Ditto.”

Neither of them move to fix it, so.

“Have you ever thought about…” Evan laughs, reaching up to play with Connor’s hair. He lets himself fully relax against Connor’s chest. “Like… we discussed christening, right?”

“Evan, Jesus _ Christ_.”

“No, _ no_, just— just wait. So, like… if we didn’t, like… fully…”

“Fuck,” Connor supplies. 

“Right. Then… does it count?”

Connor snorts, starts running his hands up and down Evan’s back again. “Fuck, I hope so. That was… fucking incredible,” He admits, resting his cheek on Evan’s forehead.

Not to hide the blush creeping up his neck, or anything. Nope.

“God, I know,” Evan breathes a sigh, warming Connor’s face even more. “We need to do that more. Like, a lot more.”

“I absolutely one-hundred percent agree. Like, _ fuck_.”

A pause.

“Okay, it’s— it’s starting to feel gross now,” Evan admits, shifting his legs. Connor laughs, adjusting his hips so they’re not pressing against Evan’s dick. 

“Yeah, it’s, uh… I see why we haven’t voluntarily come in our pants since high school.”

Evan snorts, burying his head in Connor’s neck again. “It was still really good,” Evan mumbles, “Like, really, _ really _ good. The best. I just. Wanna go shower.”

“Ugh,” Connor pretends to complain, tightening his arms around Evan’s torso, “But you’re so _ warm_.”

“But I’m so _ sticky_,” Evan says back, kissing Connor’s neck.

He begins to pull back and Connor groans, “No, don’t leave. That’s illegal.”

“Come with me,” Evan counters.

“I’m so _ comfy_,” Connor mutters back.

“Well, I’m showering.”

Evan finally pulls back, giving Connor an adorable smile. He just searches Connor’s face for a second, forcing Connor to smile back, and then plants a kiss right on the end of Connor’s nose. 

“Be right back,” He says softly, sweetly; and then he’s walking across the room, all back muscles and shoulders and _ ass _ and _ thighs _, and Connor whines just a little when his dick twitches. He hears the faintest hint of a giggle as Evan closes the door to the bathroom behind him.

Connor collapses back against the pillows, spreading out and relishing in the beautiful ache of his muscles. 

When he eventually manages to find his phone, haphazardly sticking out of his pants pocket underneath Evan’s shirt on the floor, he sits back on _ their _ bed— that’s still weird for him to think about— and unlocks his phone to see that he’s got three new messages. The first is from Zoe.

**Zoe**: Hope mom’s visit didn’t suck too bad. Didn’t realize she was taking larry with her, sry

And then there’s one from Evan. It makes Connor’s heart race _ just _ as it’s beginning to slow. Fucking _ Evan _.

**Evan**: I love you come shower with me i’m lonely pls :-(

And lastly, there’s one that makes his eyebrows raise high on his forehead. 

It’s from Larry, of all people.

**Larry**: Casserole = gross. Do not eat

A hint of a smile ghosts across his face. Connor tries to scroll up, tries to see if Larry’s ever even texted him before, but. There’s nothing there. 

Larry’s _ really _ trying, huh?

He’s trying. Like, for real.

It doesn’t feel real.

Maybe with time. 

And as he gets up with a sigh and makes his way across the room, through the door and into the hallway where he can hear running water and humming, a content grin spreads across his face. He knocks softly on the bathroom door, laughing when Evan cracks it open and pulls him in with one hand on his waist. 

He’s got so many _ things _ now, he realizes belatedly as Evan kisses him against the door. 

He’s got a partner/roommate/soulmate that _ loves _ him, that presses kisses across Connor’s face just because he _ wants _ to. He’s got his sister back again, talking to him like he’s a normal person instead of the monster he used to believe he was. He’s got his parents, both of them, who act like he’s actually got a chance. He’s got a solid group of friends that believe in him, that push him to keep going. 

He’s not _ alone _ anymore. Not really.

And, he realizes tearfully, gripping Evan’s face like a lifeline:

He doesn’t want to die anymore. 

Not when being alive is so, _ so _ fucking good. 

Not when he has so much to live for. 

And he silently thanks whatever deity it is that let him live that night sitting under that fucking tree in the park, that made him gasp a breath and blink his eyes open, hand full of pills and a heart full of hurt. 

And he silently thanks Evan for practically bringing him back from the dead. For making him go to therapy. For staying with him through everything, through all the shit Connor put him through and all the shit Connor will put him through. 

And Zoe, for forgiving him. 

And his parents, for a lot of things. 

Everyone, for everything he’s been given. 

Because now he’s living and he’s breathing, just like he’s always been, but it’s different somehow. And it hits him as Evan whispers an I love you into his ear:

He feels _ alive_. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
